I actually walked a very thin line this week, being so close to this one post, to this small triumph, but then I feared everything falling apart, everything collapsing and I feared losing all of the little things I have. I was planning to make this post my final one, ever, sharing it to all in my facebook feed and then just exit stage left. Never to be seen again. I have not been open and honest to the people whom I have usually trusted with this, but I know I have cried more the last week than I have slept, I am looking at old posts, old memorabilia, as if to say goodbye one last time before taking the plunge. Trying to divide all the things I hold dear to the people whom I want to have them… I got quite far along this road and it startled me, scared me, at how natural this whole process still feels, how easy it is to just look at my life and divide it up to people who might appreciate it enough to keep it safe even after I am gone. Listening to very emotional and dark songs, trying to give some sort of voice to my emotions, working through the pain, seeing through the tears and hearing past the screams inside.

I am sorry for not being more open about my thoughts, not more direct with sharing, not being who I wanted to be, or thought I should have been along. I do not wish to be this lonesome monster, hiding in the dark, waiting to grab and drag innocent people down with me into the darkness I have grown far too accustomed to. I feel like I am a burden to everyone around me, nothing I do is ever good enough, I am not good enough and then I saw a clip of a person whose child had taken his own life, urging people to reconsider in a very hurtful way. Now I do not blame the mother for saying it, but it really did not come from a place of understanding. She basically urged people to reconsider if they thought they were a burden to everyone, for not being there anymore is the bigger burden. Which in my eyes basically constitutes of emotional blackmail. As if it is better to be alive and in pain, feeling really dark and depressed, not wanting to hurt anyone any more only to hear that even if you are here no more, it just gets worse, so suck it up, do not give me the burden of missing you, let me pretend you are doing better so I do not have to put too much attention to how much you really hurt.

I know I am reading way too far into it with far too much bias on this subject, but that was the first feeling that overtook me. Looking back now I think it is more the constant reminder of the failure this mother feels at being unable to help, not being allowed in to ease the pain and inflicting a lot of self harm in the process. I guess this is also a bit of the feeling I am projecting onto my parents at every turn I seem to be dealing with hardships, they are actually already stretched thin from other issues, from financial, family and social matters. I feel like I need to protect them from the pain I inflict on myself, I do not want them to see me as a failure, the way I see myself as a disease, a parasite sucking the life out of everything and everyone I come into contact with. I know death is not a solution, it is an end though and sometimes just that thought is very enticing.

Then what made me not go off the rails? To be truthful, I really do not know at this point, I had my letters ready, I set things apart, I was nearly ready… I drove home with only destruction in mind from work, but as soon as I came home, as soon as I sat down, I did cry, I did despair, but I did not continue down the path, the thoughts I have had so predominately the last few weeks. I still have to admit that the prospect of ending it is… tempting, but I made a conscious decision to burn the letters, I did not want to read the empty words of comfort I tried to jot down ever again. I think empty words are not the way to give closure to my nearest and dearest, I think if I am going to do it, I need to at least make one final attempt to reconnect with whom they think I could be and who I think I want to be, the best version of me, however bad that might be.

I am that worn out and very broken doll, I bear scars and scrapes, but it is proof I once was alive, a long long time ago. I would love to see at least a glimpse of that before I do go. Then there is the promise I have made, which I really do not want to break. I want that promise to be one of the cornerstones of me being who I want to be. Not breaking my promise, my word, being truthful and open when I struggle and be alive for a long time to come. I will struggle, I’ll endure pain, but I hope to at least find some happiness as well along the way.  Again I go off at tangents, go and blurt out things I probably should keep to myself, getting headaches from over analysing every word, each phrase. From feeling deeply upset and dissatisfied with everything I have done so far in my life. I feel like I am caught between a rock and a hard place. I have not yet managed to smile for me, even just once and that is upsetting as well. I feel that I am not going to be able to for quite some time to come.

I said in the beginning I had planned this to be the end. Maybe it should be the end of something, maybe I should try and give myself some more leeway, some more benefit of the doubt and end the overly aggressive critic in me from spouting hurtful remarks.  I do want to stop feeling empty, I want to feel like I belong, I want to feel as if I matter, however insignificant it may seem, anything will help. This, I must admit, feels like a very sad attempt at crying for attention and this feeling I hate with a passion as well. I do not want to be weak, nor to be perceived as being weak. I need to carry the pain of the world after all. I need to suffer, in order to alleviate the pain of others, I am in service of everyone who needs a hand, a shoulder, a hug, or encouragement. Yet I am not deserving of this service myself. I hate myself most of the time, and that is not a nice thought to have…

I hate the way this post has turned out, I hate the way it makes me feel, I hate me for not just deleting all of it and burying it deep in the dark where I believe it belongs. This is hard, I do not like it, but I am doing it…

This was 100, may more follow… For I am still here.


4 thoughts on “100?

  1. If I wake up in the morning without pain, I know, I am dead.
    But where does the pain go? To the universe.
    Proof? Laws of Thermodynamics. Energy cannot be created or destroyed, it can only change.
    What we call pain are just electrical impulses, energy.
    Every living thing is a big bag of energy. Death releses the energy.
    Energy might have memory….

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Took me a long time to be able to reply, but thank you for the kind (cryptic) words. I know what you mean to say though and I want to thank you deeply from the bottom of my soul. Thank you.


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